Sherlock's pirate days
by ginaromano2012
Summary: This one was the second fanfic I ever wrote on Sherlock, so please don't critique too harshly. Of course, it's jesslock! It's funny, I've never written a sherlolly, even though that's my OTP (after jesslock! But, jesslock! Is a figment of my imagination, so it doesn't count). Anyway, enjoy!


I sat on the carpeted floor of 221b baker street's lounge, while Sherlock lounged on the couch, legs thrown over the back and John was in his armchair, typing away at his keyboard. I rolled from my prior Indian position so that I was flat on my stomach, swinging my legs behind me. I was incredibly bored, it was raining too hard to leave 221 and the reason I came in the first place was in his "mind palace" which, to be honest, annoyed the bloody hell out of me. I came all the way over here (okay, so I lived three blocks away, but it was RAINING!) and he thanked me by bloody THINKING? Okay, so I know he had a case that had been bothering him for a couple days, but it didnt stop me from being disgruntled with him.

I sighed and looked up at John, who was furiously typing, most likely complaining about the rain and being locked in the flat with his insane flatmate on his blog, who had earlier in the day thought it would be fun to explode some things in the microwave. I smiled at the thought, then sighed again, wishing he'd do something like that right now. I was supposed to be working on my homework for law school, but how could I do something as mundane as an essay with the gorgeous, extraordinary man currently lounging languidly on the couch next to me? It was much more fun to watch him, I thought, allowing my thoughts to spin out of control.

I felt someone brushing their fingers through my hair, just when my thoughts started getting a bit... Frisky. I knew who those fingers belonged to, smiling I rolled onto my back and grabbed his hand, holding it against my cheek. His fingers were so soft, but also tough, perfect. Sherlock smiled his rarely seen smile, which had become more frequent since we had started dating. I liked to think I had something to do with it. "Sorry about that, I figured out who killed my client's uncle, though." He said, his face not looking apologetic, but contented. I smiled and shrugged, happy that the case wouldn't be distracting him anymore. "Eh, I needed to work on my essay, anyway." I said motioning towards my pile of unopened textbooks and smiled sheepishly, realizing I had been here for two hours and hadn't even started. In my defense, though, I had scrubbed out the microwave, so Mrs. Hudson wouldn't have to.

After a few minutes of silent hair-stroking, I broke the sweet silence by asking I Sherlock had a favorite color. He thought for a minute before nodding. "I am partial to the color black." He said, motioning to his coat. I nodded, thinking of another question. "What did you want to do as a child? You know, profession. Did you always want to be a detective?" I asked, Hearing John snicker from across the room. Sherlock shot him an unamused expression, clearly sending a silent message of annoyance. I sat up, leaning against Sherlock's legs, and looked at John questioningly. John grinned at me, before winking and saying," Well, I always wanted to be a doctor. Not necessarily an army doctor, but I always knew I wanted to take care of people. Granted, it started out wanting to help stuffed animals, but ya know." I giggled, imagining a tiny John listening to his Teddy's heartbeat, and got up off the floor, climbing onto the couch to take my seat next to Sherlock who looked vaguely thoughtful.

"What about you, Sherlock? What did you want to do?" I prompted again, picking his hand back up and bringing it to her lips. Sherlock stiffened, pulling his hand away gently. "I, umn, what did you want to do?" He asked, looking mortified at the PDA shown in front of John. I rolled my eyes, why he hated the tiniest amount of PDA was beyond me. Its not like i hadclimbed in his lap and kissed him, though I was seriously debating it. "I wanted to be a mum." I stated simply, earning a surprised look from sherlock and an admiring one from John.

"A mum?" Sherlock asked, as if parenthood had never once crossed his mind. i nodded, rolling my eyes. "Yeah, always wanted two little boys." I said, a smile on my face as I remembered. "I used to have these two baby dolls that I dressed up in blue and took care of everyday. Then my mum had Susie and I got to try my skills out for real. Lets just say mum didnt appreciate me bathing Susie on my own. In the kiddie pool. At night. In the winter." I said chuckling, whearas I learned more about kids after my little sister, Susie, was born, I still wanted children. Preferably a little boy, with black curls and blue eyes... Sherlock looked at me as if I was from another planet. "What?" I asked, crossing my arms, a defensive note creeping into my voice. Did he not think I would be a good mum?

"I never took you as the parental type." Sherlock stated simply, John looking back and forth between the two of is. "Well, I can see it. I mean, you always take care of us, whenever Mrs. Hudson isn't. Even though we don't need a baby sitter." John said, grinning. I rolled my eyes, a small smile forcing its way onto my face. They knew very well that they needed me. Sherlock just scowled. "So, you never did answer my question, Sherlock." I whined, tugging on his hand like a little kid and scooted closer to him on the couch, our legs now touching. Sherlock squirmed a little at the contact, looking around the room, as if eye contact would kill him at this moment. I wondered how he ever kissed me like he did, if he was this uncomfortable holding hands in front of someone. And kiss her he did. Alot. I giggled at the thought of this seemingly uptight man letting loose and kissing me as passionatly as he did on a regular basis. We had now been "together" (Sherlock refused to call it "dating", saying that was too normal) for four months, and we were very happy and well adjusted to one another.

John shot Sherlock a very cocky smile. "Shall I tell her what you wanted to be, Sherlock, or do you want to? I'm sure Mycroft would just LOVE to tell her some of those stories that he told me!" John took a deep breath and, with a cheeky grin, looked back at his laptop. Sherlock gave me one of his famous pouts. "Do I have to tell you?" He grumbled, looking at our hands and intertwining the fingers. I nodded vigorously, this must be good of he was so hesitant to tell me. "Yes. You have to tell me now. I promise I won't laugh, it couldn't have been that bad!" I said, squeezing his hand lightly. Sherlock sighed, looking frustrated. "I wanted to be a pirate!" He said, holding his chin up high, as if his childhood wish could make him any less of a dignified man. I giggled and John let out a bark of laughter. "A pirate? Did you have an eye patch and everything?" I asked seriously before giggling again.

Sherlock glared at her, standing up and tightening his housecoat around his lanky frame. "No. Not at all! And you said you wouldnt laugh!" He started to walk off when the flats front door opened and Mycroft walked in, closing his soaked umbrella and setting it by the door. Sherlock groaned, turning around and walking back to the couch flopping back down and grumbling to himself. " Speak of the devil and the devil shall apear!" Sherlock said, glaring at his brother. Mycroft cleared his throat, his face looked pinched with effort. "Nice to see you again, Miss Jessica!" He smiled pleasantly, before nodding at the boys. "Sherlock. John. A pleasure as always."

I smiled, internally rolling my eyes at the childish behavior the boys showed each other. "Mycroft, t you can seriously call me Jess, if you would like." I said, causing Mycroft to grimace, as if meeting someone twice wasn't enough to be on a first name basis. John looked up from his laptop, grimacing at Sherlock, as if he knew what was about to happen. Sherlock stood up in response before growling at his elder brother. "What do you want, Mycroft?" He said, his voice level and cold. I groaned and tugged on his arm, motioning that he sit down on the old, brown sofa again. I hated it when he was like this with Mycroft, all he ever was was polite. So, he was very protective of Sherlock, but I assumed there was a reason behind it, that I just didnt know yet. Mycroft smirked at his brother. "Oh, I just wanted to tell Miss Abbott here a few stories! How about we start with the library story?" He asked, earning a, "don't you dare." from Sherlock.

"Okay. Miss Jess? Would you like to hear about Sherlock's pirate days?" Mycroft asked pleasantly, sitting down on the old chair across from the couch, it creaking a bit under the weight of a body. "We seriously need to debug the flat." john said, not even looking up from his blog. I looked at Sherlock as he sat next to me again, smiling hopefully, silently asking his permission with my eyes. Sherlock groaned, he couldn't tell me no to something as simple and innocent as this, not with the things he had asked me to do for cases. He nodded, earning a squeal of happiness from me. "Under ONE condition. You never tell anyone who isn't in this room about these stories. Got it?" He asked, pouting again.

I nodded vigorously,ecstatic, Sherlock never talked about his childhood. I always wondered what he had been like. "Oh! I promise! Thank you." I said, kissing Sherlock on the cheek, earning another uptight scowl from him. Mycroft smirked again, crossing his legs. "So, where shall I begin? The tree-house or the bathtub?" He asked Sherlock, in a demeaning tone. Sherlock didnt reply, instead he started to fiddle with my small fingers with his own, longer ones. Mycroft rolled his eyes at the silent treatment his brother was giving him. "Fine, how about the bathtub. When Sherlock was around four he absolutely hated being bathed." John snickered, before Mycroft continued his story. "Well, after chasing the little bugge- boy around, naked, I might add, for about twenty minutes, I decided a new tactic was needed. So, I tried all the usual bribes: candy, biscuits, a new book, but when all of that failed I had an idea." Mycroft stopped, taking a deep breath. I smiled encouragingly. Mycroft smiled, diving back into his story.

"Well, he had always told me he wanted to be a 'fierce pirate, lord of all the seas' so, I figured I would take advantage of this by telling him that pirates liked the water and they planned all of their battles in the tub. Sherlock, being smarter than the usual four year old, didnt believe me. He informed me that they couldn't have, because the paper would get wet. I needed to think quickly, to keep the lie going." Sherlock cut in, mumbling, "Some things never change." Mycroft just ignored him, continuing with the story. "So, I told him that they used toy boats and little tin soldiers. He actually believed me, which was unexpected. So, he allowed me to drag him into the lavatory and stick him in the bath. I remember this one time when little, curly headed Sherlock jumped up in the tub and 'stabbed' me with a little paper towel sword! It was quite amusing! Now I get this arse..." Mycroft said, frowning. I couldn't quit giggling, well, until Mycroft called my boyfriend an arse.

Mycroft had been at the flat for a hour or so, telling stories the whole time. Sherlock sounded so cute, but just as difficult as he is now. Mycroft had just excused himself, saying he had business to attend to and was leaving. I smiled, walking him to the door. "It was nice to see you again, Mycroft! Thank you for the stories!" I said, shaking his hand and locking the door behind him. John had excused himself half a hour ago to head to bed, seeing as he had work in the morning, so it was just Sherlock and I.

I walked back over to where Sherlock lay on the couch. Pouting. I sighed, his pout was adorable, but irritating at the same time. I nudged his head a bit so that he would sit up. i sat down next to him and he put his head in my lap. I kissed him on the cheek, playing with a curl that was in his face. "You sounded adorable, Sherlock."I said, a small smile appeared on his face, but he quickly covered it up and continued to pout, crossing his arms. I grinned, knowing he was just messing with me. Two could play at this game. I leaned over and kissed his neck, smiling against the sweet smelling skin. "Come on, don't be mad at me, Sherlock. Please?" I ended with a small kiss on his lips.

Sherlock kind of glared at me, as of daring her to break his stance. I giggled, kissing him on the mouth again. And again. Finally after a few tries Sherlock gave in, kissing me back. After a little while I broke away and grinned at him victoriously. "Seriously, you sounded so endearing, though!" I said, laughing, earning another pout from my beloved, childish and annoying man.


End file.
